


Admiring the Art

by Newtdew25



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Awkward First Times, Burns, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Lisps, M/M, Mild Smut, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, References to Hamlet, Tattoos, references to Heathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtdew25/pseuds/Newtdew25
Summary: “Sorry guys, but as much as I am for sexual diversity, nowhere in the play does Laertes go down on Fortinbras."As the Middleborough High Drama Club rehearses their latest play, shenanigans and misunderstandings ensue backstage due to costume changes and latecomers.





	Admiring the Art

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to Gabs, who got me hooked on Be More Chill and listened to all of my raving and fanboying as I listened to the cast recording. Also, I don't know if adapting Shakespeare's plays in this manner is even legal, but nonetheless, I claim artistic license. This also assumes that Heathers, Be More Chill, and Dear Evan Hansen all exist within the same universe at the same time. Not that it's overly important since the last show doesn't even make any kind of appearance. I just like that headcanon.
> 
> Update: In response to some constructive criticism (which I appreciate, don't get me wrong), I've edited the story so that Rich's dialogue is written normally, his lisp now mentioned in passing. I hope this makes it easier to read.
> 
> However, I do not claim any of these characters or settings. Also, this is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine alone.

“I’m sorry, what’s the title of the play again?”

            Christine stepped forward before Mr. Reyes could mumble with another mouthful of Hot Pocket. “’The Tragedy of Hamlet, the Prince of Woodcrest Country Club,’” she proudly announced. “’Graciously sponsored by the Woodcrest Country Club.’ Oh, the title’s actually only the first part, so don’t write the sponsorship part even though we have to include it on the programs and- hey, where are you going?” With the journalist from the Middleborough High Gazette long gone, Christine went back to her script. Although the premiere of the Drama Club’s latest show was still months away, she insisted on staying ahead of the rehearsal schedule.

            Unlike last year’s production of “A Midsummer Nightmare About Zombies,” the Drama Club actually had funding for costumes and sets, albeit with the logo of the Woodcrest Country Club plastered on every available surface. There was also the issue of changing the plot from a tale of regicide in medieval Denmark to a story of murder and misfortune at an elite golf course and resort. If it was any consolation, there weren’t any grey, oblong pills or mind control conspiracies to worry about. It took some persuasion from the cast and crew to convince the school to not cancel Drama Club after the Squip incident; it was a bit concerning that they bought the excuse Rich had thought up of.

            _“Tell them it was a bad ecstasy trip or something!” he had excitedly offered, much to Jeremy’s confusion. “You really don’t think they’ll buy that, right?” One visit to the principal’s office later, Rich was grinning smugly, Jeremy had lost his faith in the administration of Middleborough High, and Jenna Rolan had given Chloe ten dollars._

            “Attention, please!” Mr. Reyes called out from his chair in the cafetorium. “Due to the hold and secure we had yesterday because of… something happening at Westerburg High, we will be resuming rehearsal from the top of act four, when Hamlet has just dragged Polonius’ body off the stage. Richard, I know that Jeremy has sweaty hands, but try not to show your disgust until you are offstage.” Jeremy wiped his hands on his light beige trousers self-consciously before heading backstage, just passing Rich, who was in the middle of taking off a bloody button up shirt and sweater vest.

            “Hey, tall-ass,” he called out as Jeremy came close, not caring about his lisp. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad about your sweaty hands. Just take it easy when you stab me to death, okay? This costume is already falling apart.” Rich gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as Christine walked past them on to the stage, pretending to grieve in her crisp, white summer dress and matching golf visor. Jeremy smiled as Dustin Cropp pursued her, dressed in an equally white cricket jumper, slacks, and oxfords. “Sorry, Rich. I guess I just get too into character? That reminds me, I need to get my bloody clothes on.” No sooner had Jeremy ran off than Rich had finally found his jacket for Fortinbras. Personally, he really didn’t like the whole preppy look of the show, but he was glad to do something with his friends before they all graduated. Plus, he was ripping the sleeves off of Fortinbras’ blazer for the final show; not that he’d tell Mr. Reyes that.

            To be truthful, he was surprised that he was let back into his old group of friends, never mind the Drama Club. Not only had he been a fraud since freshman year, but he’d also burned down the house of his closest mate. It didn’t matter how many times Jake forgave him. There was always the guilt sitting in the back of his mind in the form of his Squip, forever taunting him about being a failure. Even more permanent were the scars from the Squip’s “corrective electric shocks” as well as the burns from the Dillinger fire.

            At least he could do something about those.

            It had been Jenna Rolan’s idea to cover them up permanently. Although Rich had vocally protested wearing long sleeves for the rest of his life, she suggested an alternative: tattoos. The marks that reminded him of his lying and act of arson were now decorated with vines and leaves.

_”Pretty fitting for a fresh start, right?” Jenna had pointed out when she took him to her cousin’s parlour. Rich could only smile, a tear threatening to fall from his eye. “Yeah, a fresh start. Now it’s back to the old, nerdy Richard Goranski.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out so half-heartedly, but Jenna still reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “We’ll take a nerdy, happy Rich Goranski over a ‘popular’ but depressed one.” The way that she used air quotes on popular made Rich laugh, only for both of them to be told off by Jenna’s cousin since he was shaking too much._

One week later, the green designs on his forearms and biceps had healed nicely. Jenna was still the only person that knew about them given the colder temperatures and the costumes for the play. While Rich loved showing off his body, he loved staying warm just a little bit more.

To his left, the door to the school hallway burst open thanks to one Jake Dillinger. “I didn’t miss my cue, did I?” he panted as he threw down his bag and ran to the costume rack. “My archery lessons went on for too long and I’m pretty sure I went about 50 over the speed limit to get here and-” Rich put his hand over the taller boy’s mouth to shut him up. “Bro, relax. It’s the start of act four, so you don’t have to go on just yet.”

Nonetheless, Jake was quick to grab his white button up, green cardigan, and grey chino costume. Although it could have been attributed to his natural athleticism, it was still surprising (and perhaps a bit concerning) that he could move so quickly despite only coming off of his crutches in the summer. Rich had to move aside to avoid being hit by the hanger Jake had so recklessly pulled off the rack. “Hey, careful! I’m short, not invisible!” he muttered as he unbuttoned his blood-stained shirt and took it off.

“Sorry, dude, I just don’t want Mr. Reyes to yell at me...” Jake’s voice trailed off as he turned to face Rich. “Woah, when did you-”

“Oh, these? Jenna helped me get them last week. Pretty sick, huh?” Rich explained as he flexed his muscles proudly. Jake nodded slowly, his eyes tracing the intricate patterns of foliage traversing his best friend’s arms and chest. “They’re really cool...” He reached out to hold Rich’s limbs, his grip gentle as if he was afraid of breaking his bones. Looking up at the taller boy, Rich had the feeling there was something more than platonic admiration in Jake’s eyes as he let his fingers trail over the inked designs.

“Can I… Can I kiss them?” Jake asked, his voice barely above a whisper. At this point, Rich was more than confused. He and Jake were more than comfortable with one another’s sexualities, with Rich proclaiming himself the “Best Bi” and Jake shrugging off claims that he watched kitchenware pornography. They’d even kissed that one time they had a sleepover (although they were eight and it was before Rich’s mom died and Jake’s parents had gone on the lam). Physical affection wasn’t necessarily uncharted territory, but this pushed the boundaries of friendship. _“We’re close, but not that way,”_ Rich thought to himself, not realizing that he’d been nodding his head.

Given how he was almost an entire foot taller than Rich, Jake got down on one knee and pressed his lips to his wrist, where there was a bundle of roots that blended into the lines on his palm. With feather light grace (which is yet another thing that was not expected of the only Dillinger in town), he left kisses all the way up Rich’s forearm, to his shoulder, and up to his collarbone. Rich had closed his eyes, allowing himself to indulge in physical contact that wasn’t related to rugby or his father. He only opened them when he felt Jake stop, catching the other boy’s gaze. For this moment, there was no Hamlet at a country club. There was no Middleborough, no other problems in the world. There were just two dudes who were definitely not gay for each other.

_“Bi and pan for each other, if there has to be a label on it.”_

Rich backed up into the rack of costumes, Jake shuffling along to stay close by. With his back finally up against a more solid surface, he felt comfortable enough to put his arms around Jake’s neck. Closing the gap between them, Rich quietly gasped before Jake’s lips were on his. In contrast to his gentleness just moments prior, the kiss was needier, more desperate. He could feel his name being whimpered against his mouth as he relaxed his grip to hold onto Jake’s hoodie instead.

The whole experience of having his scars and tattoos free in the open was still new for Rich, as if he were a snake that had just shed its skin. Perhaps it was the newness of it all or the hormones coursing through his body, but he swore that there were sparks wherever Jake was pressed against him. It was entirely different from the “corrective shocks” that his Squip had so often forced upon him before; Rich craved how it felt and whined when he lost contact with Jake’s clothed chest against his bare one.

“Is this okay?” Jake whispered as he put his hand against Rich’s side. Panting for air, Rich nodded before he leaned in to kiss his (boy?)friend’s neck. Jake’s hands on his body weren’t as soft as his arm kisses, nor were they as passionate as their lip ones. It was a delicate mix of care and hunger as he traced the flowers that blossomed from Rich’s chest. However, that feeling definitely devolved into hunger as Jake’s hand crept lower towards his waist. Rich didn’t mind in the least, even subconsciously pulling Jake down so he got there faster. Their breathing gained a sort of rhythm and Rich was pretty sure he heard Jake say something like “Oh fuck.”

 _“That definitely wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”_ Rich thought as he felt Jake’s hand just brush against his crotch. _“Not a bad idea at all.”_

“Sorry guys, but as much as I am for sexual diversity, nowhere in the play does Laertes go down on Fortinbras,” Michael’s voice interrupted them. The resident tech director was standing by the hallway door, hiding his grin behind the clipboard in his hand. “I’m sure there’s some fanfiction about it online though.” Jake stood up, doing his best to look composed despite his beet red face. Rich couldn’t do a whole lot to save face, considering he was still shirtless and was breathing heavily.

“Now, if you’re, well, finished,” Michael continued as if he hadn’t nearly become a voyeur. “We need Fortinbras in costume and onstage for act four, scene four. God knows that Madeline can’t improvise for shit.” With that, he disappeared behind a movable parlour room wall, texting someone that was likely Jeremy. Jake couldn’t bring himself to look at Rich as the latter put on his costume shirt and started fixing himself.

            “Hey, you almost forgot your jacket,” Jake meekly spoke up as he held out the last piece of Rich’s costume. He looked at the ground as he put it on around himself. “It’s called a blazer,” he mumbled.

            Jake sighed as he sat down on one of the prop chairs. “Look, can we talk about… this after rehearsal?” Rich barely acknowledged him before he stepped onstage for his five lines of dialogue. He made sure to exit stage left this time instead of his usual stage right departure.

///

            They were only able to rehearse until the end of act four due to a curtain rod fastened to one of the backdrops fell off and nearly hit Dustin Cropp in the head. After calling in Ms. Bennett, the wood shop teacher, to check on the problem, Mr. Reyes just called it a day and reminded everyone to strike the set and hang up their costumes. Rich was taking off his gravedigger’s trench coat when Jake came up to him again. “Dude, I just wanted to-”

            “What,” Rich interrupted as he turned around. “Were you going to apologize? Say that you didn’t mean to?” He wanted to suppress his frustration, but after enduring the Squip for so long, Rich knew that it was important to speak his mind, his lisp be damned. If Jeremy was telling the truth, then it was only a matter of time before that voice came back to haunt him.

            Jake was holding his hands up, genuinely surprised by Rich’s ferocity. “No, no. I just wanted to say that I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I kind of let my, er, tattoo kink get the better of me,” he explained, his voice dropping towards the end.

            “Did you just say tattoo kink?” Rich asked, his question a bit louder than was probably socially acceptable. The way that Jake nodded only pushed Rich to laugh as well. “I thought you were on something when you started kissing me!”

            Shaking his head, Jake smiled a bit, obviously relieved. “I just figured it out recently. Hell, I’ve figured out quite a few things recently.” Rich had finished changing back into his muscle shirt and flannel and was hanging up the last of his costume when Jake cleared his throat. “So, uh, I probably should have done this first, but do you want to go out sometime? Maybe to Pinkberry?”

            Rich looked up at him, the grin just barely on his face. “Okay, one on condition: I get to order as much frozen yogurt as I want, no questions asked.” Jake nodded quickly as he picked up his backpack. “Yeah, of course! I get to share with you though, right?”

            “Eh, I’ll think about it. You did kind of jump the whole ‘buy me dinner first rule.’”

            “Fair enough. Can I at least hold your arm in the hallway?”

            “Don’t you mean hand?”

            “I said what I said, Goranski,” Jake shot back, making what he hoped was a glare. Rich only laughed as he walked with his (boy)friend into the hall. “This frozen yogurt date better be worth it, man. I’m starving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave kudos and any comments!


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